The World Can Fit Two
by 2whitie
Summary: Excerpt: "I know you and Sherlock like the weird cases. Artemis Fowl is a weird case." When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever is left, no matter how improbable, must be true. Whatever was going on with Artemis Fowl was impossible. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first non-experimental serious fic.

Pairings: A/H

Words: 1430 (Prologue)

Takes Place: After TAC for AF and pre RF for Sherlock

Rating:T

Disclaimer: 2whitie thinks if you think that she owns either Artemis Fowl or Sherlock she will thank you for such a compliment before she Gibbs-slaps you for forcing Doyle to turn in his grave, and for causing Colfer to…ummmm…..spin in his office chair….yeah…

_**We may talk, shake hands, nod to each other, but the fence remains. You will always be Sherlock Holmes, and I, Arsene Lupin, Gentleman thief **_

_**-Arsene Lupin**_

Inspector Lestrade silently passed a file to John Watson who set down his cup of tea to look at said file. He fingered the thick file with a questioning air before opening it, completely disregarding the bright red TOP SECRET written across it. It was thick, the thickest he had ever seen. Pages of bank account numbers, pictures taken from security cameras and phone correspondence tumbled out. John Watson scooped it back into the file, preferring to look at it later.

"What's this about?"

Lestrade leaned forward, dressed in his customary English suit. Classy, but not too formal. " This is about Artemis Fowl" he said in a low voice, as if saying the very name would cause somebody to drop dead. "Sherlock's head is big enough, but you and me both know he is the best. It's just an added bonus that he likes these weird cases. Artemis Fowl is a weird case." He sat back in his chair, slightly embarrassed by the compliment he had just issued.

John's interest waved away any notice of Lestrade's feelings. While Sherlock preferred the weird cases, he drifted toward normalcy. Something to root him to reality. In the midst of superhero conventions*, giant hounds and triads, he needed a reminder that solving cases was not the game Sherlock made it out to be. People get killed. Sometimes however, as he looked back, the weird cases were the most remembered. Right. The case.

"Who?" he asked.

Lestrade poked at the file. "Heir to one of the biggest criminal empires. He's one of those people that even with cooperation from Interpol and other intelligence agencies, we know he's responsible, but nothing is ever proven. All circumstantial evidence, but enough of it for him to be put on 24-hour watch.

John tugged on his sweater, something that was becoming a habit. "What makes him special? Criminals who are surrounded by nothing concrete is hardly new."

"Well, for one, he barely hit puberty. He just celebrated his fifteenth birthday." He tapped the file. "This file was started when he was ten."

The good doctor didn't miss a beat. "How do know it's not daddy pulling the strings?"

Lestrade raised an eyebrow. "Where were you three years ago?"

"Getting shot"

"Right. Sorry. His dad was suspected dead when he was ten. Suspicious timing, no? Then when he was thirteen, the Dad suddenly reappears and the mafia is in disarray, no one knowing what really went down the night before he reappeared. Since then, he has dropped off the face of the earth for days on end, been in an area that almost seems to have dropped out of time, and almost every weird sighting involving something arcane or supernatural, like the Cancun incident, involves him or his bodyguard. Something is up, and we need to find out. Normally, we leave these kinds of things to the Abnormal Activity Unit**but this..whatever it is…time drops…people with memories that don't match up…. also occurs during Fairy Thief heists, which does fall under my jurisdiction." Lestrade panted for a bit, catching his breath.

John blinked. Everyone in the detective world knew who the fairy thief was. Named for the first painting he stole, the modern Robin Hood ran around lifting paintings from Swiss banks, private collections, and anything with a lost masterpiece. Said Masterpieces would then be mailed to somewhere with his signature attached so that it could be on public display. His signature was simple: a disk with a hole in the middle. As for the Cancun incident, everyone with a television knew about that. On September 1st, in Cancun, Mexico, There was a half-hour where a large group clamis mass memory loss. They cant remember anything that happened during that half-hour. All video tapes had been reset to factory settings, effectively erasing the memory. When everyone came to, they realized people in walkers had managed to run across the auditorium of the wrestling stadium and babies could perform complex acrobatics.

Lestrade had started talking again. "To catch someone like this, we need someone who isn't afraid to break the rules, or try something unorthodox. Don't give me that _who me_ look, I heard rumors about someone trying to streak across Buckingham palace. Point is, this Artemis Fowl is smart. He deals in weird things. He's dangerous, cunning, and above all, he has money." He stood up, and tossed money on the table for the tea. "Think about it. It could be interesting."

"It could be dangerous" reprimanded John, looking at the suitcase Sherlock was packing.

Sherlock threw in a firefighter suit. "People who want puzzles but no danger join the cub scouts."

When Sherlock lowered himself enough to have one of his cases compared to the Cub Scouts, John knew there was no backing out. He sighed and began inspecting his favorite sweater. Was Ireland chilly?

Sherlock grabbed the sweater out of his hand with hi violin bow and laid it on the chair. "No need for that. I read the file. The place holding the most evidence seems to be Chicago."

John picked the sweater back up. "How do you know it wasn't for actual legal business? It could be a dead end."

Sherlock stopped mid-pace. "Chicago is home to one of the biggest mobs. When he went over there, they temporarily disbanded. . He hasn't been back, if he is as smart as they say, he won't be back there to stir up coals." He brought a newspaper out of nowhere. "Fairy Thief steals from a New Jersey museum. He did it in broad daylight, incredibly arrogant, but smart. No pictures, no witnesses, no trace. He knows what he's doing, he's a show-off. Yet, he could have done it when the same painting was in Chicago, with more press. He didn't. Why? He doesn't like Chicago for whatever reason. Having the mob out for you is a reason. Mobs leave traces." He shouldered on his jacket, all packed. "This could be interesting."

Artemis Fowl shut his computer screen. His blue and Hazel eyes stared off into space before flickering back, focused and a plan already shaping. "Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson" he murmured. He raised his voice up a touch. "Heard of them Butler?"

Butler nodded. "I know one by his reputation. Eccentric, but a deductive genius and not afraid to break the rules. He shares a London flat with the other one, Watson. I actually know him. Good solidier, and a good head on his shoulders." He rumbled out in a deep bass.

Artemis rubbed a cufflink. "This could be interesting."

Foaly's voice vibrated from the speakers. "Artemis, the minute you think he's getting too close, I want you ringing the LEP on your ring-phone, and a mind-wipe team will be on the surface. We don't have cause now, but if he investigates you more, we will have cause to have a mind-wipe warrant."

Artemis grinned. "Understood."

A huff of disbelief came from the speakers. "Myself, Holly and Mulch know the service you have rendered the people." He paused. "But every incident is a new game, a new opportunity to have the Council order a mind wipe on you."

Artemis sobered slightly. "I know" he said, his voice turning into its normal rasp. " But tell me, What's life without risks?"

Foaly seemed to grin. "That's what Orion said."

Artemis's face heated up a few degrees. Foaly was probably watching, but he blathered on anyway. "Besides, we don't want anyone to get close to Opal."

Artemis looked out the window overlooking Ireland. "I can take care of myself." He turned to Butler. "Purchase two tickets to Ireland, then send them to Chicago. And prepare the guest bedrooms. The game is afoot."

_**The mastermind behind all this..He's twelve years old sir. **_

_** Root grunted. "Kid thinks he's Sherlock Holmes" **_

_** "That's Professor Moriarty." **_

_** "Homes, Moriarty, they both look the same with the flesh scorched off their skulls." **_

_** -Artemis Fowl Book 1**_

I have this all planned out, so everything will mean something. Tell me is anything is OOC, but don't flame without critism that I can use.

Points:

Artemis is not evil. Not like Moriarty, who killed people. Yes, I made him seem so, but really, he doesn't kill people. He takes great offense when suggested in book 3.

Artemis isn't the kind of genius Sherlock is. Sherlock is a deductive genius, and although Artemis has displayed deductive skills, he is more of a prodigy/mastermind. Incredibly smart, but predicts how people will react. He does have a degree in psychology.

*Mentioned in either aSiB or HoB, in one of his blog postings. I think they were dressed up as ninjas

**Not anything needed a cool name


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry about the wait. My summer has been crazy, and my notes for this story is only on our laptop..which my dad is using for college. Oh Well. I want to give everyone who reviewed Ding Dongs. I might go back and fix mistakes later, and as far as OOC goes…I deserve any reviews about people being OOC for picking two characters that are the hardest to do. Complete lapse of sanity on my part. Next time, if I want to do something with Sherlock, I will pick a nice, easy character to do it with, like the Murder of Blues Clues. Oh well. OOOH OOOH! There was a cheesy movie on called A League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Sherlock wasn't in it, but Mycroft was. Best line: **

**Captain Nemo: What's an American doing here? This is so far just a war in Europe. **

**Invisible Man: You kidding? When Europe goes to war, America gets dragged in **

**Dorian Grey: *Toward Unknown American Sharpshooter* Who are you then? **

**UA: Special Agent Sawyer, of the American Secret Service.**

**Disclaimer: You kidding? If I owned Artemis…I would be doing more that 8 shows for the Release of the next book. As far as being the person to own Sherlock…I like being not-dead. **

_**"You want to check out the crime scene, Red?" **_

_** "Yeah, me and my assistant, eh, Watson." **_

_** "You're hilarious" **_

_** -Half Moon Investigations **_

Bloodshot eyes bored a hole into Sherlock, the darting pupils trying to find an ounce of understanding to grab onto. Sherlock, in return, gave a bored look, although inside he was mildly impressed. This Artemis was mildly skilled. He somehow was able to evade capture and death, heal his bodyguard of a bullet wound to the chest, fool the man that had been an ally to the mob, break in, and played an entire building of mobsters and bodyguards to the tune of his fiddle. That was, if the files and this man were to be believed. What was fascinating though was that he drew the line at killing.

He wasn't sure if that made him more interesting, or if that took the edge off.

John was leaning in the corner. Sherlock was taking over, best to just back off. He sat contently watching the man called Spiro who had grabbed Sherlock and tried to shake him like a rag doll when Sherlock started to show signs of disinterest. Sherlock had simply looked down him with an air of disdain (His normal state) before shooting John a look that clearly read _Can you believe this guy? _

_ I live with you. I can. _

"Well." Said Sherlock, standing up as if here disappointed. " I'm Afraid I will have to be leaving. Goodbye." He stood up and walked out casually, as if he didn't notice the pleads coming Spiro, who was on the ground, begging to be believed. "John, coming?"

John nodded, and tried to smile at the man sobbing on the floor. "Er, good day." He didn't tear his eyes away from him until the door was shut. The mental pictures of a man who had his mind torn to bits by rage, obsessed with the fact that a thirteen-year-old had taken everything from him had burned into his memory.

For the first time since picking up Artemis Fowl's file, John Watson felt nervousness take over his other emotions. Normally, If Sherlock was confident, he was confident. After Moriarty though, he had felt it was an eye-opener. Criminals can be smart too. This was someone who didn't view his age as a handicap. He used it to his full advantage.

Sherlock strode out. "Ever get that feeling you are being watched?"

John rolled his eyes, thinking of the fan girls in England. "More that you think."

….

"You are absolutely sure he didn't see you?"

"I was shielded. Don't worry Miss Koboi."

Opal pushed her manicured nails into the scaled skin of the goblin called Tooley. "Idiot" she hissed. A slight whistle came out with the hiss, between her sharp teeth. "The Fowl boy isn't even fooled by cam-foil." She dropped him, and started playing with her hair. She stopped on a particular strand and looked over at Tooley. In that moment, she reflected over the situation. It didn't matter. She was a genius and she had allowed enough to make enough room if Artemis knew she was here She knew he was here, because he had bought ticket to fly here after a failure to contact a Sherlock Holmes before he left the country. She slightly regretted using a goblin that was too dumb to use a camera. If the goblin was wrong, it didn't matter as much to her, as much as the fact that the LEP might catch on if too many people died in the Chicago area with pale skin, black hair, blue eyes and were dressed nicely. This one, however, was smarter than he looked, and could work a recorder. A poor quality one. To her disappointment, she could only hear parts of the conversation she realized, after beckoning with a pale finger for it to have the recorder handed over.

_"What do you think?" _

_ "From my army experience, this would be someone who…" _

_ "I wouldn't mind some tea.." _

_ "Simple. The man is an utter imbecile." _

Again, with the bad quality, it was hard to figure out whose voice it was, but it did have a distinctive European accent to it. Older, but the Artemis that she had met in the compound was about eighteen. She was afraid to touch the computer, not knowing what programs of hers Foaly had used in the future, and the Goblin had said that according to his LEP contact, the boy aged three years in the time stream, so he might be twenty one now, if he was eighteen when she met him. Any younger, and he wouldn't have been able to defeat someone as pretty as herself. It simply wasn't possible. She nodded her head, signaling to kill the pale, blue-eyed, dark haired genius, put fingers to her blood red lips, and pressed them to a picture of Artemis Fowl, one of the many spread on the wall.

….

Sherlock had his tea interrupted by a laser blast firing from thin air. Instinctively, he jumped away from the table, to the sound of confused people. He jerked his head up and scanned the sky for its source, when John jumped from his crouched position to push him out of the way from one coming from behind him. The odd red chunk of light ate at the concrete below his feet, leaving a tendril of smoke. John rolled to the side, and jumped up, as Sherlock scrabbled to his feet, leaving the bystanders filming the red chunks to upload to YouTube.

Sherlock rushed forward in a zigzag motion reveling in the chase.

"GET DOWN! DUCK" roared John from behind him. He threw up his hands to cover his neck and threw his head down in a sharp motion. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another bolt of light whizz over his head like a boomerang. He grabbed John by the wrist and pulled him behind a bus. John used his free hand to help push Sherlock under the bus. He laid down with his check pressed against the gravel. He heard a raspy voice converse in a language he was not familiar with. His body tensed, and he felt John do the same.

People around John always called it the moment before a storm. That silence when a sniper aims in movies, before everyone starts laughing when a kid's pants fall off on stage. That horrifying silence. In real life, silence was not golden. It was deadly. He was hearing nothing. Hiding under the bus had bought them a few minutes, and even a dumb criminal would surround the bus and fire. It helped that the bus was stationary, though. He drew his revolver from a holster, and signaled Sherlock to do the same, as if he already didn't have his cocked.

"Mr. Holmes? Mr. Watson? Impressive job dodging those, ah, pieces of mob technology. Mind coming out now?" said a gently accented voice.

John gritted his teeth. This was either a trap, or someone had figured out how to defeat the alien weapons. Under the bus had a few drawbacks as far as living arrangements, so they couldn't wait it out too long.

A Chuckle came from outside the bus. "It's perfectly safe."

John came out.

Gun first, of course.

He found himself eye-level with a smirking Artemis Fowl the Second. He reached into his breastpocket and picked out four slips of paper. "Our plane leaves in twenty minutes. I hope you did not pack too much luggage?"

….

Artemis had breathed a sigh of relief when John lowered his gun. Butler was off dealing with the goblins, and possibly gathering a name from whoever had sent them. It had taken him a few seconds to figure out the situation, and he had to admit, the detective and the doctor had handled it beautifully. He had Butler park the car close to the bus to distract them from the fact nobody around them was moving, due to the mind-wipe electrodes wrapped around their skulls. The fact that all but three of everyone had beat it made that easier.

Sherlock observed. But did not comment.

Artemis leaned back into the cushions of the Bentley with a glass of chilled water in his hand, legs crossed, his two visitors sitting far away as possible. Butler had thrown the goblin and his softnose into the trunk and was now driving. He grinned, his eyes slightly crinkling from the anticipation of something about to happen.

"Well, Mr. Holmes?" It was a loaded question, and all three of them knew it. What did he think of him, Why was he being investigated.

Sherlock gave Artemis one of his looks. John pinched his nose bridge, awaiting Sherlock to get them thrown out of the car. Artemis noted his reaction, and wanted to smirk even more.

"Lets start with the patently obvious. Rich, smart, defiantly in genius territory, arrogant. You brought us here, so you want a challenge. You wouldn't view me as a challenge, or a possible threat of you didn't have something to hide. Your hands, despite clearly being cared for, you nails are kept very short, more even than macho men, meaning you cut them everyday, not chew them off. Why? You use a computer on a daily basis. You wear Armani, but no jewelry besides a ring, but due to the fact that everything else around you is elegant and tasteful, it's not a ring, but you want to pass it off as one. Microphone perhaps? Hmm..Coin around your neck. Leather strap, crudely done. Its sentimental. Someone of your wealth would most likely date someone of the same social status, so not a girlfriend. Guys don't give gifts like that, so probably a friend that just happens to be a girl. You talked to us first, not your bodyguard. You want to make it clear that you speak for yourself, that you are someone different from your father. You bought us tickets out of curiosity of what we knew. If you were trying to intimidate us, you would have brought your private jet down to Chicago. You came on a normal plane, showing this was planned last minute, using a private jet, and having us ride in it would remind us every minute the money you have at your fingertips .Again, intimidation is not a priority in this situation for you. Sleeves show signs of someone tugging on it. Your left cufflink is worn down, showing your habit of rubbing it, so someone else is tugging on it on a normal basis. Someone short. A sibling perhaps? I could go on, this car is filled to bursting with everything about you."

Foaly, who had been listening in, sat back. "D'arvit."

John hadn't followed most of that. Usually Sherlock didn't jump around like that, but he had been testing the waters, seeing of Artemis would keep up. Judging by Artemis's expression, he had.

"The rumors were true. Impressive, Mr. Holmes. Geniis are rare enough. Deductive Genii are even rarer. A pleasure." He stuck out his hand. "Artemis Fowl the Second." Sherlock tilted his head slowly, then shook. Artemis transferred his hard gaze to John. "Equally rare is a reliable support system." He held out his hand. John shook it with a little more enthusiasm than Sherlock. He felt like his months of being held in the same regard as a skull were being acknowledged.

"Before we get down to business, I never did hear what happened in Baskerville. Sharing is caring."

Sherlock shot a look at John. "_Do_ we care?" John elbowed him, then started explaining.

"We were hearing reports of a large dog terrorizing the area around Baskerville, so we went to check it out. Someone's dad had apparently been killed by this thing, ripped to shreds, mauled, you get the picture. So we went. Still have nightmares-

"Was it a permanently pregnant female Doberman?" Artemis inquired innocently.

Sherlock sat up a little. Here was someone who might present a challenge in the smart-arse commentary competition. "Story times over. Old Case. Old News. We were hired by Scotland Yard to investigate you. Anything you say or do will turn up on John's blog. That is why we are here. Simple enough, puppy-boy?"

Butler growled from the front seat.

Artemis raised an eyebrow, "Care to Conduct you investigation at Fowl Manor? I could use a birthday treat."

"Pleasure. When's your birthday?"

"In six months."

"Excellent. It might take me five months and two weeks to find a bow for your arrest warrant."

"Make it a blue one."

"Someone's fancy."

John had his head buried in his knees. "Both of you shut up. Please."

** "Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself; but talent instantly recognizes genius."  
― ****Arthur Conan Doyle****, **_**The Valley of Fear**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Ehhh..not real happy with this chapter. But filler chapters like these need to happen. *sorry* I re-wrote it three-no-four times and this was the best version. Also, I have no idea how to play chess. If I need to make corrections PM me. Sorry, I'm great at checkers, but it wouldn't really have the same effect. This is officially pre-The Last Guardian. I would have to re-write it to make it canon, due to the fact Sherlock would be investigating for a very different reason if I included THG. BTW: best Butler quote from the last guardian. **

** "I am Butler. Everything I say sounds tough." **

** Anywaaay..the quote, and then we will begin! **

"**It's a wicked world, and when a clever man turns his brain to crime it is the worst of all." **

** -The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes**

Butler walked in the room behind John and stood impassively by the door. John, in the same stiff manner put down his luggage slowly, using his peripheral vision to keep an eye on Butler. He knew that if any harm came to his infuriating charge and John was the cause, despite the fact they had served together, Butler would not hesitate to dispatch him.

When his bottom of his luggage touched the cream-colored carpet Butler spoke.

"It's been a while Captain." The rank slid off the giant man's tongue as if he used the rank a lot.

"Indeed." John said shortly. He sat down on the edge of the bed and took stock of the room. Like the rest of the manor, it was spacious and tastefully designed. Carpets thrown here, a curtain here, and flowers arranged there. Yet despite the obvious talent of the decorator, the same wall that oozed money spoke volumes with their blankness. The room was devoid of feeling. It was like a sponge, and it was soaking the feeling that was his out of him.

"Never imagined we would follow similar paths."

John raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" Despite the fact one of them worked as a bodyguard and the other was a partner in solving crimes, he knew what he meant. If it was possible to see into the future, he believed he had. An old soldier putting up with someone who left the rest of the world behind-and they were perfectly aware of the fact. John had always reigned in Sherlock, and Butler seemed to do the same to Artemis. Sherlock answered only to John, respected John's opinion in a way it was clear that only John's opinion mattered to him. Artemis was much the same. He couldn't see the young teenage genius answering to very many people.

Butler didn't have to answer. John's response was all in his body language. "John, you have to understand I do not want you here. Artemis enjoys playing with fire, and revels letting the flames lick at his feet."

John rolled his shoulders. "Don't remember you ever using metaphors." It was a lighthearted statement, but Butler knew that John understood what he meant.

Butler opened the door to let himself out. "Don't jump to conclusions. Artemis will bait Sherlock, but whatever it may come, don't mistake Artemis for a villain. "

John caught the door. "Don't mistake Sherlock for a hero. He may have chosen the right path to follow, but he didn't follow the right path for the right reasons."

Butler gently started to close the door. "Above all, until this is over, and those two are done amusing themselves, remember this: A hero is defined by the villain they fight, but they are held up by their sidekicks, and more importantly, their friends."

The door shut.

Artemis opened the door for Sherlock. "You will be staying here." He said in clipped tones.

Sherlock whirled around then looked directly at Artemis. "Sure I will not be taking up someone's room?"It was clear he wanted to put on a show.

Artemis spread his heads theatrically. "Astound me."

Sherlock grinned. "With pleasure. One side the bed is slightly more tucked in than the other. Someone slept here, but it was one person. Not a married person. The dust is slightly disturbed in the adjacent bathroom where" –he leaned in-"there are scorch marks on the hook. Hot things in the bathroom? Hair dryer. Men in general don't use hair dryers (At this Artemis looked a bit miffed)-it's a female. Short too." He whirled to where basic toiletries were normally kept. He grabbed the brush and deftly plucked a hair from it. "Red hair. Short hair. Female with short hair, so probably a crew cut. Everything is arranged in military rows. Why would a criminal house a military person? Not dirty, no. You were fine admitting someone had been in the room, saw no need to cover it up, so she is most likely in a high division and is willing to overlook your record if you act as consultant. They don't specialize in theft, then. Looking at the fact she has moved the rugs that are obviously expensive to do her exercises judging by the dents in the floor, she also likes you as a friend, so probably off the book visits too. There you have it. A short, redhaired government/army female friend who stops in from time to time, respects your abilities in order to get the job done. Am I wrong?"

Artemis didn't blink. "That's it?"

Sherlock was slightly thrown by the reaction but kept a poker face. "Well, if you want more….You have spent lots of time in Russia, voice patterns suggest someone who can speak Russian fluently. I'm guessing you speak Spanish, hmm..your fingers show you are ambidextrous, don't exercise much, you probably hack, you like chess, probably been trained in psychology. Speaking of which, you have suffered from a psychological illness, right? Your manners show no signs of a habit, showing you break habits early on, so your illness probably involved some sort of paranoia, you needed something you keep yourself rooted to reality. Child Genuis Symdrome? You are arrogant, yet every time you look toward your parents wing you look slightly guilty. Probably from keeping them out of the loop. You do dangerous things. Possibly with your government friend. What did I miss?"

Artemis finally grinned. "You missed a few things. A few crucial things, but that is besides the point. I doubt you will find much more."

Sherlock tilted his head. "You want to bet?"

"I'm already gambling with having you stay here. Chancing you will find out something more? Highly unlikely, It would make you more determined than ever. Why should I?"

"It might make things harder."

"Name your stakes."

With that statement, Sherlock could not help but feel that when he meant stakes, he meant the kind you plunge into vampires with. Artemis just had that impression on people.

"You strike me as the type to sacrifice you pawns in chess to save your queen. You have sacrificed information. The issue is, what do you expect to gain from me knowing this? You could have put me in any room."

"Some people never lose. Never lose their queen. Chess pieces are shaped like people because they act like people. Once their queen is gone, they scatter without a figure head to guide them. A chess master is someone who marshals the mindless and pulls victory from it. Look at history. You will find examples. After all, History repeats itself. People picking wins from a pile of leaderless pawns, captured rooks, and horses. I am that chessmaster. I am allowing you to have a few pawns." He placed a horse pawn on the table.

Sherlock put it in his shirt pocket. "This is a head. The head stores the brain. That is what I am. A brain. The rest of me is a mere appendix."

...

Artemis was about to leave the area when something flashed on the horizon. He was experiencing what Butler had seen all those years ago in the Kronski hotel. About three stories up, and a bio-bomb with a Koboi logo on it arcing over the trees and aiming for Fowl Manor.

He checked his watch, quelling the feeling of panic. Not now. Not now of all times. They had three minutes to get out of the manor. Judging by the size, it wouldn't cover the grounds, just the manor. A gem of good news.

He tapped the ring he always wore on his hand and let the pictures that he was watching be broadcasted to Captain Holly Short, then sent the images to Butler, along with a brief text.

**Blue Rinse. Arriving in three minutes**. **Is anyone else in the manor? **

He received a response almost immediately. **No one else. Wait for me**.

**No time. I'll get Mr. Holmes if you can get Mr. Watson**.

After that Artemis turned off his phone, knowing Butler would want to be the one controlling the situation himself and therefore get himself killed.

He looked up again and saw that it was much closer. It had gained speed. Sherlock was already looking at it and narrowing his eyes. Artemis already had a course of action planned out. A bit Hollywood-ish, but it would have to suffice. He opened a window (well, he picked the lock on it first just to see Sherlock's face. Even with a bomb approaching he liked to set the Detectives nerves on edge) and gestured.

"Ladies first?"

"Well, in that case, go on then!"

"Yes. Sacrifice the helpless child." With that Artemis grabbed Sherlock by his jacket managing to still look pristine and unbothered and tossed them both out of the window, and aimed for the bushes.

Artemis just felt himself falling and knew he did not look cool. Or Bond-like. He fell like a sack of rags into the bushes. Sherlock, on the other hand, preferred to flail his feet and land upright. As he up righted himself in the air, he came eye to eye with the bomb, and immediately started matching it with other bombs he knew of. None came to mind.

"ARTEMIS" bellowed Butler as he pulled the teenager out of the bush. Said teen got up, and winced as he heard the bomb detonate and felt bad for the ant farm in Beckett's room.

"I swear he fell out first."

…

When Artemis had purged the gas from the manor, the boys sat themselves around the kitchen. John was ready to explode. He did not appreciate being dragged out over Butlers shoulder and see the other two occupants throw themselves out of the window. And then finding out he was the only one in the dark. Artemis was leaning against the refrigerator, Sherlock was nonchalantly tossing an apple, and Butler was standing in front of his charge as the policeman asked them questions.

"A driver nearby swears he saw something explode. A possible bomb."

Butler cursed Opal for not shielding it.

"No idea. " That was Artemis. "If you are questioning me about an explosion, it was probably your miniscule brain exploding from boredom."

The policeman stepped forward, unaccustomed to being spoke to this way. Butlers finger twitched.

The policeman stepped back.

"Hiding. You are the brains behind the brawn." Said the policeman.

"Yes" said Sherlock.

"No" said Artemis. "Butler makes his own decisions."

Sherlock rolled his eyes while John stepped on his foot.

"Look" said Artemis. He held out Sherlock's phone which Sherlock had not felt leaving his pocket. He showed him the picture that had just been received from his phone. "It was a comet. Please leave." As he lowered it he crushed something. Butler was the only one who saw anything. It was a tracker attached to Sherlock's phone, with the Koboi labs symbol attached. From what they had gathered, Opal had originally thought Sherlock was Artemis, due to the fact if Artemis aged, he would have similar features. The Opal from the past would have no idea what he looked like if she avoided all electronics that Foaly could trace. One of the goblins had probably lobbed a bug that had a tracker attached to it.

He sent his last text of the day to Holly, completely ignoring the policeman that Butler was escorting out.

**Opal. **

Sherlock was also on his phone. "Anything new from Interpol?" he asked Lestrade, fingering the horse.

"Nothing yet. Anderson is the one with the most Interpol contacts, and he must be sick. Wasn't drunk, but his pupils are kind of ragged. Maybe something in two days, max."

Sherlock shut the phone. Artemis had heard every word anyway. No point in trying to be subtle.

Artemis paled. Opal had moved fast. Now that she knew Sherlock was not him or his father, she had no reason for him. Just by entering the manor, the consulting detective genius had signed a death warrant.

Sherlock frowned. Artemis had no reason to be slightly put out over a man he had never met. For some reason, he had been concerned over Anderson having ragged pupils. This suggested that what Artemis was hiding was not only criminal dealings, he also was dealing with something else.

Butler had the same thoughts as Artemis. He and John turned at the same time where a bomb was most likely to be.

Ticking was the only noise in the room.

In that split second after he saw a flicker of a flame, John saw Butler cover Artemis. The bomb was right behind Sherlock.

"SHERLOCK!" He yelled, pure panic making it seem as loud as Butler's shout to take cover. He pushed Sherlock out of the way.

Sherlock vanished.

**Either that boy is the most sane person on earth, or he is so disturbed our tests cannot even begin to scratch the surface **

** -Artemis Fowl and the Last Guardian**


	4. HELP!

Author's Note

No, this has nothing to do with the progress of the story. However, I really need someone to PM me a link with chess rules. I based my last chapter on rules I found on a site, which another reviewer brought to my attention, (thanks chipfairy!) Those rules were wrong. Apparently with the different sites I check, its like checkers, every site plays a bit different. (Some rules require that every move that has an opportunity for a jump must be taken, some don't, etc). So if anyone knows a site that has the rules with the set of rules most commonly used, please PM me the site so I don't look more like a fool than I already probably look, and I will have the revised version up ASAP. If I don't get a response in the next two weeks, I will change it to the rules according to Wikipedia, because it has the most versions on there. *winces*. Apparently instructions are also a tiny *tiny* bit different between the UK and US. Despite both of these fandoms being UK based, it wil be easier for me to use US rules. My weak defense: Artemis and Sherlock are genii, they should know both. As a slight apology, there is a really good murder mystery surrounding chess on the site, under the Detective Conan fandom: Checkmate by H.A.R.M Girl. Keep yourself busy ….after you PM me the most true-to-rules-site you can….


	5. Chapter 5

**EDIT:Sorry. Posted the wrong chapter-the one not spell-checked. My bad.**

**Yes, I know the update is late. **

***sorry***

**Until this story is complete, I won't be fixing the chess thing from the last chapter due to time constraints. Plus, Netflix has ruined my life. First Doctor Who, then Merlin-speaking of, did anyone see the finale? Anyone with a heart cried. It was perfect and horrible at the same time. Anyway, sorry if this chapter is horrible, I haven't written anything that doesn't have to do with syntax, diction, helicopter landing, taxes, or DNA strands for months. **

"-And then I thought to myself, why would anyone kidnap me? Not like I've pissed off anyone recently-"

James Hayes*, minion of Opal Koboi sighed. The people who made an inescapable box to hold kidnapped people had obviously not thought to make it soundproof.

….

"This," snarled Opal Koboi, "Is not Artemis Fowl." She viciously kicked a gagged Sherlock Holmes. He rolled his eyes. _Good job. Next week we can start working on the alphabet. _

She took three long strides toward him, and despite him being nearly three feet taller than her, she managed to rip his gag off. He smirked, gray eyes sparkling. A few more minutes and he could work the cuffs around so he could reach the combination pad.

"Moron. You really thought I was Artemis Fowl?" He tilted his head, pretending to consider the facts, as if he hadn't figured it out already. "Hmm. Similar IQ's? Maybe. Similar basic features? Hardly. Who confuses a teenager with a grown man?" He paused for a split second in mock disappointment. "You wouldn't happen to be related to Anderson would you? Never mind." He pretended to think for a minute. "Unlesssss," He drawled, "..Neither of you had seen either of us before!" He narrowed his eyes. "Who are you working for?" It was a demand, not a request. Something odd for a prisoner in a high tech fairy ship to do. Not thqat he knew it was a high-tech fairy ship.

Opal hissed at the mention of Artemis. Her voice tones started to take on multiple layers. "And what would you know of Artemis Fowl?"

Sherlock had no idea where he was, what the creatures where, what they wanted with Artemis, but a few things were clear-they had mistaken him for Artemis twice, and they had abilities he had little, if any experience with. No matter. The rate of the facts about his surroundings that reached his brain were slowing. Some type of mental drug that was activated by listening or when someone started speaking. Maybe it activated with a code word.

Sherlock blinked dizzily.

_"What do you know about Artemis Fowl?"_

Her limbs. All out of proportions.

_"What do you know of Artemis Fowl?"_

Such a pretty voice. No. Too many flat B's in that voice. He started to force himself to focus on individual details. It was 67 degrees Fahrenheit in the room.

No. Focus on the important things. Don't let the voice..

He felt blood rushing to his face as he fought against the audio-drug**. He wasn't embarrassed or overly cold, so this was a side-effect of the drug. This was not good. Focus on the facts. This "Opal" –judging from the way she moved in her clothes was used to expensive clothing. Rich then. Possibly criminal endeavors…

Focus on the important things. Now that she realized that he wasn't Artemis-he was useless to her. The only reason he was still alive right now was because she thought he might know something. Neither of his captors had met Artemis Fowl, it was just bad luck that he matched the basic physical description. Neither of them had probably even met him. They had probably just looked at his records.

His records!

He remembered John reading out his basic record in Chicago. Something about his family..

_What do you know about Artemis Fowl?_

His head felt like it was about to burst. He couldn't resist much longer. He had to say something. It would be a risky gamble..but if they had only looked at the basic records…..

"I know a lot about Artemis Fowl" he managed to gasp out.

Opal was on him in a second. "What?" Tell me everything. Now. Who are you to him?"

Sherlock pretended to try to resist. "He's..He.."

"He is what?"

"Artemis Fowl…He's my brother."

He finally succumbed to the black eating away at his vision and collapsed. Let the game begin.

….

Artemis practically threw himself on the spot where Sherlock had disappeared. His fingers brushed the tile, and he tried to stop a horrified grimace from coming over his face. Someone had come into Fowl Manor and installed a translation pad.

Translation pads were highly illegal because it compressed someone's atoms, arranged them into wavelengths, so anyone with a computer could send anyone anywhere. All it took was one crashed computer, and someone could be lost forever. Also, it was highly dangerous, and had been outlawed less than 24 hours after the patent went through. He whipped out the omni-semsor on his ring phone and tracked it.

John was stuck in place for a minute. Not because of shock, he had come to expect this kind of thing from Sherlock. After He found out about the Noodle Incident of '88, he decided to stop being surprised by anything Sherlock did. He was stuck on a course of action. Artemis was already examining the floor, and Butler was checking all the possible routes of escape. He settled for asking Artemis a simple question.

"What the HECK was that?"

Artemis barely glanced up, from his position on the floor. Somehow, his pants were not touching the floor. "Sherlock went poof."

"That is not an answer."

"Well, judging by the inflection of my voice, it was."

John gritted his teeth. Why was he always stuck with the smart one?

"Look. I. Do. Not. Care. About your little competition. Sherlock disappeared in your house and no matter how smart you think you are, you don't know what happened to him. Show me how smart you are and find him." John started to work himself up, losing some composure.

Artemis glanced at him, outwardly unconcerned. Inside, he was calculating how much to tell Doctor Watson. He used finger to rub the side of his right temple. "He was taken." He said finally. "By someone who will get rid of him as soon as they realize he isn't worth anything to them. Tell me, how much does Mr. Holmes know about me?"

John barely ground out his next words. "Did you let this happen-is this part of your game?"

Artemis tilted his head in a very Sherlock-manner. "I don't play with lives." He fixed his dark blue eyes on John. "If you really want to know...fairies kidnapped him."

Butler closed his eyes. Artemis needed to gain some social skills. Telling someone that their best friend had been kidnapped by fairies was not something you said. He made a mental note to take Artemis to the movie theatre and ditch him sometime.

John's reaction made Artemis gain a new respect for people who wear sweater vests.

….

Artemis climbed into the Bentley after John and passed the phone to him. "Cayne Facilities. It's the place where they are keeping him. I was able to trace the signal they used to-ah-transport Sherlock. We should be able to rescue him. After your little tantrum about friendship and a person being a person no matter how inferior you believe them to be-you said Sherlock got a look at my file correct?"

John nodded.

"Well, I have no doubt Mr. Holmes knows how to make himself valuable. Judging from the little I know of his character-which is why I asked you about how much he knew of me by the way- He probably impersonated a family member of mine. It makes his temporarily valuable, but we have to hurry. The longer he can fabricate a story about me, the better."

John gave him the Apology not accepted look.

Artemis sighed. He knew the look. "My brothers are four. As deranged as the person I believe to have kidnapped him is, she will not fall for the brother story once she gets her hands on proper files. If we don't deliver whatever she wants-probably me-she will get rid of him," he handed John the description of Sherlock's location, "She has her ship near this place." He tapped the papers. "People tend to get sold into ah-underground circuses there. It's one of those places that the crimes are never proved but everyone knows what they do"

John raised an eyebrow. "Like you then."

Artemis ignored him. The area was not patrolled by the LEP that far north. He was lucky in the fact that John, having lived with Sherlock for far too long –did not question the advanced technology, but any more displays, and he had no doubt the good Doctor would start asking questions. Whenever humans were captured by renegade fairies, most of them were sold to be part of underground-literally-circuses. It was disgusting, and the LEP could only do so much. He fingered what Sherlock had dropped on the floor before he had vanished. A pip.

The pieces of a plan were starting to form. He flipped open his ring phone for the second time that day. John looked at him curiously.

Artemis smiled a vampire smile. "You are not the only Captain that I know."

***Me trying to be clever. James Hayes is a combination of the names of the antagonists from the Sherlock Holmes story The Adventure of the Priory School **

****Tried to make it clear that this was the Mesmer**

**Sorry if this chapter sucks. I know it wasn't funny, but trust me, if it isn't obvious, this story will slowly start to come together, even it seems really confusing. Late Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, God Bless.**


	6. Chapter 6

While I apologize for the really long wait…I had my reasons. *school* Anyway, hope his chapter makes up for it…*winces* On the bright side..I MET EOIN COLFER!

"**It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important."****  
****―****Arthur Conan Doyle****,**_**The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes**_

__"Artemis, this better be good."

"Oh. I have no doubt that you will be able to convince your superiors that this is important. Drop the fact that _Cayne facilities_ is involved and don't mention me, say that a..ah..person without a _book_ is being held there. If they still don't give the green light, say Opal Koboi and I guarantee you will be on the first supersonic shuttle to Ireland."

John held Artemis's gaze. The teenager had been throwing cautious glances his way during the entirety of the phone call, as if he were skirting around something. With a start, John recalled the sixty-seven page packet of crimes that Interpol suspected him of.

He probably did have something to hide.

…..

John jumped slightly as the door opened _while the car was moving_. He glanced sharply at Artemis, whose only reaction was to briefly look up. He looked at Butler, who was driving. He had no reaction, except to re-lock the door after a small person climbed in. He wondered if he should just stop asking questions like "Are you sure that was vaguely safe," or anything at all along those lines.

Artemis merely looked up at the girl, and smiled. A soft smile, not the ones dripping with arrogance that had been sent John's way. "Holly," he greeted.

The individual who had pulled herself into the vehicle yanked off her helmet and shook out a bob of auburn hair. She was outfitted in a blue* jumpsuit that was plain, with the exception of an acorn insignia and a small gun. Small gun for a small person. She was tiny, a midget, but was clearly in shape. She turned to him after nodding in Artemis's direction. "So, this is the 'other captain' you mentioned on the phone." She held out her hand. "Captain Holly Short."

He took the hand. "Captain John Watson." He checked out her outft. "Very Star Trek. I like it."

She smiled at him. And looked at his outfit, trying to find something to say. "Nice sweater..very.."

"Fluffy oatmeal?" Artemis interjected.

She glared at him. "Comfy looking."

John didn't know whether to be offended or laugh.

Artemis cleared his throat. "Seems we are all acquainted." He turned his computer toward both of them as Holly reached for a chilled water. "Mr. Holmes is being held in Cayne facilities, about twenty minutes from here. If my hypothesis is correct, he is most likely posing as a relative of mine while being held by Opal Koboi." He sighed a not her again sigh. "She is trying to avoid using technology herself, so she cannot be picked up by any sensors. So, it is mostly her pet idiots working the tech for her. The only thing I found of Sherlock's that he left was this pip," at this he held his palm flat, displaying the melon seed.

John practically leapt out of his seat. "Why didn't you show this to me earlier?" There was only one word for how he felt. _Pissed._ Pissed about being purposely left in the dark by Artemis. "It would have been nice to know about this earlier. Do I have to give you a similar lecture to the one I gave Sherlock? Being smarter than everyone else does not give to the right to withhold these kinds of things. Because even if you meant no harm by not telling me about this, it could have very well cost us our lives if I had never found out about this, if we had stormed ahead thinking we were only dealing with this Koboi person." The usually mild-mannered Doctor spat out the next words. "This melon seed is something only I would have gotten. To quote Sherlock, this is about to get uglier than Anderson's face. It means Moriarty is involved too."

There was a beat of silence as the good doctor regained his breath.

There was another beat of silence as a look of mild horror arranged itself on Artemis's face.

The next few seconds were filled with everyone in the car straitening everything out because everything in the Bentley tilted when Butler slammed on the breaks.

Butler whipped his head around. "Are you sure," he said giving John the this-better-not-be-a-joke-because-if-it-is-every-c haracter-in -300-was-based-on-my-childhood-and-I-will-prove-it -with-your-body-look.

John nodded, glad that someone got the severity of the situation.

Holly spoke into a tiny headset. "Foaly, give me everything we have on someone named Moriarty."

The response came on via the car's speakers. "Searching…okaaay...let's see..Sending Artemis the relevant files. Wanted for…"

Holly watched Artemis download a particularly big file. "Wanted for what, Foaly?"

Foaly's voice was laced with horror. "Holly, if this isn't really important, get out NOW..I'm just skimming his record….Oh my God."

Before she even read the file, Foaly's lack of chatter spoke volumes.

Artemis passed her the laptop screen. Holly pursed her lips and started to scroll. For a long while, everyone was silent.

….

John jabbed a picture that Artemis presented. "Him. We just arrested him.."

Artemis brought up the stats that went with the picture, He had pulled up people that were known to work with Opal Koboi and Moriarty. In Opal's case, he just brought up accomplices that could pass as human.

John continued. "A woman was found dead, and the yard asked Sherlock what he thought happened. I remember, he was so frustrated because he never figured out the exact cause of death, except that whatever it was, the woman had signs of burns, but the burn was on the back of her head, and the woman had broken both of her arms. The angle made it look like a ten-foot person did it. Nevertheless, Sherlock found out who it was. One of Moriarty's right hand men, Sebastian Moran. He was taken away by Anderson though…funny, no one has made mention of an escape."

Holly frowned. "The records that Foaly gave me matching this photo are of the same person, but they have him listed as ex-LEP Major James Hayes. He was confirmed to be helping Opal Koboi, used to be a recon sharpshooter.

Artemis clapped his hands together. "There is the connection. James Hayes, or Sebastian Moran, whichever he wants to call himself. He works for both of them. Likely Sherlock recognized his kidnapper and dropped the seed before he was taken." He checked his phone, mind mentally thinking up their advantages. Then he groaned. "I forgot to send my school an excuse for my absence."

It suddenly occurred to John that Artemis was a teenager. A kid. Someone who grew up too fast.

For a moment, he wanted to know why he couldn't know normal, tall, people.

John adopted the look that adorned his face whenever Sherlock started talking. "Yeah, how did he disappea-"

Artemis brutally interrupted him, "Butler, are we at Cayne's yet?"

"About two more minutes."

"How many speed limits have you broken getting there?"

"…About ten."

"Not enough. Break more," said Artemis and Holly in unison.

…..

The four of them stood outside a steel warehouse-like building that seemed like it should be covered in the middle of summer. It was tall, grey, abandoned and ominous. Artemis regarded the building as a second home. He walked up, and pushed the door open, before he was shoved aside by Butler in case there were traps. John drew his pistol, as did Holly. After Butler gave the all-clear sign, all four inched forward. Artemis, weirdly, had his cell phone out, muttering something about tiles and pads. Butler automatically took point and John covered the back, while Holly covered Artemis in an unspoken agreement.

The two of them seemed to have an enormous amount of chemistry. John was curious how much Holly knew about Artemis and his criminal background, or how much her co-workers knew about Artemis. During the half-hour car ride- he had been aching to ask about the status of their relationship. They were perfectly balanced polar opposites.

A door appeared, that led into Opal's shuttle. Holly gave the shuttle an once-over. Big, gray. Like the warehouse. In fact, you might think it was part of the shuttle.

Butler tapped the door, and slid open without a whisper.

Opal was waiting for them. She was leaning across a couch in a large room. She grinned, catlike at Artemis.

He grinned confidently back.

Artemis's image flickered.

"**Confidence is ignorance. If you're feeling cocky, it's because there's something you don't know."****  
****―****Eoin Colfer****,**_**Artemis Fowl**_

*Colfer keeps the LEP uniform green in all the books except for 5 and 7. So, since this is post AC, it is blue.


End file.
